


Belladonna

by ContagiousParadise



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood, Cults, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, M/M, form shifting demon dick, ink demon!Roxas, noncon, translucent demon dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContagiousParadise/pseuds/ContagiousParadise
Summary: Sora is an unwilling sacrifice for a demon possession.





	Belladonna

**Author's Note:**

> The only one who should be reading this is the devil to remind me of why I ended up in hell  
[My twitter](https://twitter.com/ContagusParadse)

“Do you know what happens after someone gets possessed?” The hooded figure asked, twirling a sprig of belladonna in between his fingers. “You see, for demons—_true _ demons—they need to hollow out the space where the human soul is to fit their own forms. That sort of thing is a delicate process and it takes time to make a body that isn’t theirs their home. _ Years, _ even.”

Sora could barely understand what was being said, the room hazed over with soft, warm lights. He tried to move, but his body felt too heavy, too disobedient.

“So it’s important that if they’re going to put in that effort that they like their new bodies. But you see, they still need the original human host, kind of like a conscience. They don’t really comprehend how fragile humans are, how often they need to maintain their upkeep. You see we eat all of the time, can’t just jump off of things without hurting ourselves, temperatures that are too hot or too cold damage us—we’re delicate.”

The room smelled of incense and a metallic rot Sora couldn’t place. His eyes kept rolling back into his head, catching flickers of other shadows in the room, figures in coats.

“It’s why the demon doesn’t just kick you out or use your soul as a snack. But the problem with that is people try to remove the demon when they notice something is wrong. But by then, you feel empty in a way you can’t place. It’s like phantom pains for the soul and mind…so you’re likely to let the demon back in, who’s just as likely to linger around and wait for you to do just that.”

The man placed the belladonna on Sora’s sternum, on his exposed chest, his _ naked _chest. He struggled to keep his eyes open, to focus on what part of his body lay where. He tried with significant difficulty to move his fingers, letting out a soft groan from the strain of it all.

“You meet all of the requirements given to us. You should be _ honored _to be able to experience such a rapturous, momentous existence carve into yours!”

He was speaking too loudly and it was making Sora’s head pound, a pathetic mockery of his irate heartbeat. But he couldn’t focus on his feelings when it was putting this much strain on him just to try to get his bearings.

His eyes caught the skin of his knees, the sound of his own heavy breathing background noise to his struggle.

There were words that took Sora too long to process, words he finally realized he didn’t recognize the language of. By then, the chanting had become a deep, unholy hymn. The belladonna started to bleed a viscus black, dripping down the spaces between Sora’s ribs. It oozed down into the divets in his hips, dripping down between his legs on either side of his soft cock.

It took Sora far too long to realize it was warm.

He tried to struggle again through his haze; the words kept coming, the belladonna kept dripping.

His breath hitched as it coated his throat, worked his way up the side of his jaw. He felt the ink brush against the inside of his thighs, gently grasp between his legs, drip down between his cheeks and against his hole. It was warm. It was slowly gaining weight, birthing a life Sora wanted no part of. Sora tried to focus on keeping his mouth closed, the ink pressing against the soft flesh behind his knee. Feather light ink pressed against his lips, grazed over his cheek bones, heaved down his shins.

The world went dark. It suffocated in silence. Sora was so easily overtaken by sleep without the sight and sound of the hooded figures. But his consciousness didn’t let go, didn’t release its grip on the world, even if the rest of Sora had relaxed.

The weight eased itself off of Sora from his chest, the belladonna drowned in itself. It arched, a spine and the smell of metallic rot. It was heavy—too heavy. Sora choked for air, the ink pressing into his mouth, against his tongue.

Fingers.

His salivated as if he hadn’t eaten for weeks, a reflex he had no control over, but that he knew was being coerced somehow. The inky hand pulled back, a thick trail of drool clinging to it’s fingers. It opened like a cavern, sticking it’s fingers inside.

Sora’s legs and pelvis hurt from the weight of the thing on top of him.

The fingers pulled back with a wet squelch and what he knew was his saliva, now black. A second hand curled around his shoulder, a bruising grip as it pressed it’s fingers back into his mouth.

Sora swallowed against his own volition, swallowed, swallowed around its fingers. The ink, drying like a shadow on pavement, snickered at him.

_ I’d tell you to do what I say or else I’d eat you, but you’re already very obedient. _

It spoke with no sound, a thought from Sora’s own head. The rush of adrenaline and horror flushed out whatever they’d drugged him with. He struggled, but the weight of the thing on top of him was just as restrictive as the restraints from earlier.

Blue like cool flames rolled around its body, tracing a system of veins until the blue fire settled behind a soft, malformed skull. Eyes. The thing had eyes. The bore into Sora, as if trying to make a pyrographic copy of him. Sora felt as if the thing was holding his lungs, restricting how far they could expand, how deeply he could breathe. He tried to move his fingers, a loss of blood flow making them cold.

The ink ran up Sora’s legs, a conscious effort to touch over a spill like before. Sora choked on a sound he refused to let escape, terrified of it sounding like desire over desperate fear. Knees that weren’t his, felt _ exactly _like his if not for the fact they stuck to him, knocked into his own. They pressed his legs wider apart, testing his limits.

Sora winced. It didn’t stop. Sora let out a sharp exhale of pain, and it paused. It removed it’s hand from his shoulder, thick jointed fingers and nails coming away from him. It ran it’s hand along his groin, leaving a numbing sensation in its wake. It spread Sora’s legs wider and it didn’t hurt. Short, strangled gasps left him, made the room spin, twirl, dip.

The hooded figures were all still there, eyes following the scene like silent paintings.

The malformed ink swayed its head back and forth, as if testing the weight of it, as if to appraise the way Sora’s legs could now do a complete split. It used its thumbs to spread his hole next, Sora just waiting for it to squeeze his lungs so hard they’d pop already. The ink was still coating his cock, his hips.

Ink floated off up off of its head, a desire to ascend. It cracked once it got too far, the inky halo forming stalagmites, forming horns, the ink dropping back down into its body. Something about that cemented the idea for Sora that this thing really was a demon. Otherworldly had already been more than established, but that truly told Sora what this thing was.

It laughed at him again, so soft Sora almost thought he’d been the one to make the noise, to crack and lose it. It was mocking him. Sora didn’t know if that should make him angry or beg for help. Was there any shred of humanity among the figures here who would try to step in if he asked? It was more likely than the demon sitting on top of him.

“Please…?” he whispered, unsure if it was to the thing before him or the figures around him. “Please, help me…?” He felt his eyes well up as it pressed its thumbs to the ring of muscle, testing its give. The ink roiled like wave tides around his soft member, trying to elicit a reaction from him that wasn’t pitiful.

_ What’s your name? _ It asked, a thought that wasn’t his again. _ Tell me and I’ll make you a deal. _Deals with demons were something everyone knew to avoid, but what alternative did he have? Ink dripped from its torso onto one of Sora’s nipples, sucking on it as it pulled back up into the demon’s melting form.

“Sora…”

For a moment, it spoke out loud, all gibberish sounds that could be made from the letters of Sora’s name. It didn’t intervene with it teasing Sora’s pliant hole, with it’s ink dripping down onto his chest once more and suckling at his nipple. It was erect and pink with distress.

_ Roxas, _ it decided. _ You can call me Roxas. Give my name meaning in these next few moments, and I’ll do one thing for you that I can’t refuse. _ The ink squeezed at Sora’s cock, making him inhale, making him choke.

“_If I want you to let me go?_” he sounded pathetic, begging for what was sure to be a lost life otherwise.

_ Only if you give my name meaning. Call it once. Let’s see how it sounds on your tongue. _The ink pulled back around its face like someone suffocating on plastic—it smiled. The sight of it went right to the base of Sora’s spine, forcing him to tense up. Ink dripped around his waist and clung to the small of his back—Sora was forcible relaxed despite his whole body being on pins and needles.

He opened his mouth, trembling and gasping. “R…Ro—” Ink welled up in his throat from what he’d swallowed earlier, choking him. Sora’s legs kicked, but were still restrained by his ankles. If he couldn’t call his name, then the demon didn’t have to keep his end of the deal.

The demon removed his fingers, pelvis pressed up against him. Sora could feel it press into him with a complete lack of restraint, narrow and long. Sora struggled, to breathe, to pull away, the tendril feeling around inside of him. It split into two, one burying itself too deeply inside of him, past where fingers could reach, past where he could pull it out. The other flicked at his prostate like the tip of a tongue, back and forth and more stimulating than it should have been.

The ink around his cock rubbed against the underside of his head, wet and promising. It buried itself further into him, ink dripping off of the demon’s chest onto Sora’s and sucking as it pulled away while he choked. His fingers grasped at air, at nothing.

Nothing was going to save him, not those people, not this thing.

He felt the ink inside of him pull back, trace a ring around his insides as if to measure the diameter. It melted back into the second one, expanding to four times its size. Sora turned his head to the side and dry heaved, the ink dripping down into his throat. Sora coughed so hard he saw stars.

_ Call my name. Go on, _ it goaded, the cock it had formed inside of him thicker by his entrance. It pulsed, Sora feeling his heart retaliate in time. It pulsed. It grew again. It _ hurt_. It pressed it’s palms to Sora’s chest, rubbing it’s thumbs along his collarbone. It’s dripping body sucked at his skin, desired to swallow him up again. It gave Sora’s cock a hard squeezed and jerked at him, Sora’s voice pitching and struggling.

It thrust into him, thick and wet and _ deep_. It hadn’t moved it’s hips, Sora feeling his hole uncomfortably stretched, relaxed, painfully spread. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, overstimulated from pleasure and pain. The ink on his cock hadn’t relented, hard jerks and squeezing and now suckling at him like a mouth.

Sora choked on a sob, tugging at the tight satin restraints around his wrists.

_ Call my name, _ it demanded again. Sora shook his head. _ Call it. _ He shook his head again. _ How am I supposed to help you, _ it’s cock grew bumps that angled right into his prostate. It twisted, writhed, Sora doing the same. _ If you won’t call for me, Sora? _

Sora gasped over and over, exhaling so hard it hurt. The ink around its face dripped off like candle wax, exposing seared skin and scales. The thing inside of him hollowed out, spread him open and spread itself to thin film of ink.

The paintings of men in coats shifted to stare.

Sora whimpered through his tears, desperate. It thrust into him hard, hole still wide open like his legs. He felt soaked, but realized he didn’t feel pain the way he should have. The ink had relaxed his muscles the way it had his legs, his back. It could split him apart and Sora wouldn’t feel any of it.

It stopped moving, stopped suckling, stopped thrusting, stopped squeezing.

_ Maybe we should try something else if you won’t call for me. I’d be willing to hold up my end of the deal, even if we have to change yours. Why don’t you try fucking yourself on my cock a bit? Without all the waterworks, of course. If you call my name now, I’ll consider doing something nice for you just because. _It sounded sarcastic and cruel, but it waited.

Sora laid there, gasping while tears dripped down his temples and onto the pentagram. They were all staring. They were all looking at him, at his insides, at his spread legs, at his hard cock, at his heaving breaths. They were _ staring_.

His insides clenched, Sora feeling the thing inside of him. It felt bigger than it had when the demon had made the addendum to his offer. The longer he sat there, the bigger it would get, the harder this would be for Sora.

He whimpered again, bottom lip trembling. He thrust his hips up, having a hard time sliding up and down on its cock laying on his back and with his legs spread so far apart. He bent his knees, pressing his heels into the paint on the floor and trying again.

He jerked, arching his back and making him _ moan _ in a way that sounded like him choking or like some kind of bird.

It had _ violently _ thrust into his prostate again and again it felt far too sensitive. Had it numbed him or just redirected sensation? Sora felt his eyes well up. If he could do this, if he could bear this _ humiliation_, he’d never have to do it ever again. The demon would go away. He’d only ever have memories of this.

He lifted his hips again, the demon politely letting him lower himself back down onto its massive cock. He did it again, voice escaping him in soft whimpers. Again, biting his tongue and ashamed he couldn’t at least wipe at his tears. Again, the ink settled around his bouncing cock without gripping it. Again, exposed and with everyone watching. Again, with it hitting him right where it felt shamefully good.

Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.

The candles blurred in his vision while the ink grew ridgid like the roof of his mouth. The demon leaned over him, ink brushing like tassels against his nipples, untying his wrists. It grabbed for his wrists, putting them around its neck.

_ I said no waterworks. Moan for me—_ _now_ _. _

Sora mewled like a kitten, his own voice, the sound of his own body, the only thing in the room. His ears burned. He wiped at his eye with the heel of his hand, then put it back around the demon’s neck. It pulled him upright, ink solidifying and widening. Sora could see it form a bump in his stomach as he sat down on it’s cock. He watched as it got wider, as it pressed up against his skin more before stopping.

_ I didn’t say stop. _

Sora raised his hips, moaning for the demon like it wanted. Just a bit longer and it would be over. He dropped himself down onto it, body eager to swallow it up despite his shame. The head of the cock slotted right against his prostate, sucking at it with small tendrils like a closed anemone. Sora moaned. He wished it was harder to do that. He wished there was more resistance on his end.

His legs trembled as he raised himself up again, pulling away from the blackout blissful feeling. He lowered himself down again with a moan, letting out more as he sat there for just a minute. He pulled off it again, then lowered himself, wanting at the very least the good part of this back. He raised his hips, lowered them, raised, lowered, raised.

He hadn’t stopped moaning, every inhale, every exhale, he _ moaned_. The ink at his cock sucked at the tip ever so gently, taking his precum with it.

“Please…_ please… _” He begged, fingers knotted in inky hair, cock bouncing between their stomachs.

_ What desire do you want me to grant? Do you want to escape? Do you want to be released? _

“I want to cum—please…! Please let me cum…!” Sora begged, tears welling in his eyes. The demon pulled him closer, tongue pressed down his throat. Sora swallowed, choked.

_ If you do, that’s it. _ He pulled away, tongue in his own mouth. Sora hadn’t stopped riding his cock.

“I don’t care. I want it. I want it so bad, _ please Roxas. _”

Roxas bent him forward, thrusting up into him hard, unrelenting, ink dripping off of him and onto the pentagram, raw skin exposed. It pooled underneath them, Sora clawing at his back, ink dripping off of his cock and replaced with Roxas’ hand. He jerked him off just as hard, just as intensely as he fucked him, Sora moaning his name over and over.

“Come on babe, how much _ harder _ do I gotta _ fuck you _ in front of these guys to get you to spill already?” Roxas whispered in his ear, Sora tensed around him, clung to him—then practically melted, orgasming loudly. His spine relaxed, tail lashing before finding Roxas’ arm and coiling around it. Roxas licked with the flat of his tongue up his cheek and to his eye, tears long gone.

Sora’s blue eyes fluttered open, the color fading to yellow. The cult members shuffled around, trying to witness a transformation that seemed _ off _to them. He was supposed to become possessed, not turned—but humans were stupid.

_ There’s only one door. Can you get it? _ Sora requested, the only thing the cult members hearing was him moaning and riding out his orgasm on Roxas’ cock.

_ Can do, you hungry little fleshlight, _he teased, licking at his neck.

Humans didn’t realize when a body was already possessed by another demon. They didn’t realize their summoning tactics were as outdated as their wards. They didn’t realize when they were being _ played_. Roxas pulled out, Sora eager to eat so he could get him off properly. Roxas came a little easier when there was human blood involved.

The candles went out all at once. Sora moaned as one of them screamed, biting his bottom lip. He was tempted to just let Roxas kill them all while he jacked off, but he’d be nice this time. 

_ We should invite Vanitas next time. _Roxas suggested as blood sprayed against the wall. A human gagged on their own split throat, Roxas licking at the mess they were making. His tail pierced through a human who’d reached for the door handle.

_ I dunno if he could handle all your cheeky foreplay. Ooh, give my name meaning by moaning it, oooh—I wanted to bite you so badly. _ Sora rolled his eyes, exposing the whites before deciding to just leave them that way. He didn’t _ need _his iris’ or pupils to see in the dark.

_ Then bite me. _ Roxas taunted. Sora dropped the human heart he’d had in his hand and threw Roxas up against the door, hands grabbing at his waist.

_ You get to be the human next time and I’ll be sure to tear hunks of flesh off. _

Roxas groaned, coiling his tongue around Sora’s while a human rocked themselves and cried in the corner. He didn’t know why they were doing that—Roxas and Sora always gave them a chance to back out. He’d even said please _ ever _so sweetly. They pulled away from the kiss, Sora giving Roxas a wide smile.

_ Let’s finish so you can finish, _ Sora purred, giving him a gentle stroke to his hard cock with his blood covered hand. One of the cultists started praying, chanting, whatever useless thing they thought worked. Roxas pressed his forehead to Sora’s shoulder, moaning. Roxas kissed him once more, then pulled away, attention on the one that was chanting.

They missed how humans didn’t try this summoning stuff as often anymore—the foreplay was always really good.


End file.
